


we'll take the most from living (have pleasure while we can)

by symphony7inAmajor



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Ghosts, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Really Character Death, is it magic, let's say the magic of true love did it to em, rated for discussion of death etc, sort of??, who can say.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 09:49:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20691527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symphony7inAmajor/pseuds/symphony7inAmajor
Summary: "It's Nikolaj," Mark says and his voice cracks like he’s going to cry.Patrik feels like someone just dumped a bucket of ice water over his head."There was an accident."(patrik really, really wishes he'd told nikolaj how he feels.)





	we'll take the most from living (have pleasure while we can)

**Author's Note:**

> real quick warning uh this involves lots of discussion about dying so if that bothers you perhaps this is not the best fic for you
> 
> this is a fill for the prompts 22. Neon lights at 1:30 am and 64: Violet bruised eyes from [this](https://heir-to-the-diamond-throne.tumblr.com/post/151164415366/64-sensory-prompts) list. yes i know that this is the vaguest possible interpretation of them. 
> 
> WHY must i always cause pain and suffering for nikolaj....
> 
> title from "let's live for today" by the grass roots

Patrik doesn’t know why he goes out the night of the accident. Some of the guys on Bern had been planning to for a few days, sure, but Patrik had wanted to stay in until the last minute.

At any rate, he goes downtown to one of the more popular clubs, doesn’t drink anything besides water and sits at a table in the corner and watches everyone getting steadily drunker as the night passes by. 

He runs his fingers around the edge of his glass, staring into the last inch of water. The flashing lights flicker and shatter on the surface. Patrik is getting a headache. 

Patrik switches his phone on. It’s almost two in the morning already, which surprises him. Time flies, or whatever. His throat feels dry and he empties his glass, then looks towards the bar, wondering if he should get some more water before he goes back to the apartment he’s renting. 

The bar is relatively well lit compared to the blue and green lights flashing around the rest of the club, but it’s hard to see through the mass of people dancing. Patrik squints, checking if there’s a line up, but then he notices someone standing near the bar.

It’s a man, his face mostly hidden in the shadows. Patrik can only see parts of him; blond hair, the glint of an eye, the line of his back. He’d know that body anywhere.

“Nikolaj?” he whispers. He stands up, forgetting his glass, and starts to make his way through the crowd. His eyes stay fixed on Nikolaj until someone bumps into him, cursing at him in German when her drink spills onto both of them. “Sorry,” he tries, and edges around her before stepping up to the bar. 

There’s nobody there. 

Patrik scans the crowd, but it’s hopeless. He slumps into a barstool and pinches the bridge of his nose. This—everything—seems to be getting to him. It wasn’t even Nikolaj, just some guy who looks like him.

But Patrik had been so sure….

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he answers it, not bothering to check the caller ID.

“Hello?” he says, raising his voice a little bit to be heard over the thumping music. He notices that he’s still looking out into the crowd and turns away with a scowl, rubbing his forehead.

“Patrik?” It’s Mark. 

If this is about his fucking contract, Patrik is going to scream. Then he notices something, something behind Mark’s voice that he didn’t notice right away because of how loud it is in the club. Mark’s voice is shaky, his breathing uneven and harsh.

“What is it?” Patrik slides off the stool and makes his way to the back corridors where the bathrooms are. It’s quieter back there, emptier. The music has dulled to a muffled thumping noise, the only other sound the soft buzz of the emergency exit. Patrik stares into the red light, waiting for Mark to reply. “What’s going on?” Patrik asks when Mark doesn’t say anything.

“It’s Nikolaj,” Mark says and his voice cracks like he’s going to cry.

Patrik feels like someone just dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. 

“What happened?” Patrik asks, his desperation surely coming through in his tone. 

“There was an accident—” Mark starts, but his voice cuts off with a shaky gasp.

Patrik’s knees buckle and he stumbles into the wall, his back hitting hard before he slides down to sit on the floor, knees to his chest. If Mark is calling him and there’s been an accident, then Nikolaj could be--he might be—Patrik refuses to even think the word.

“Mark,” Patrik says, pleading. “Is he okay? What happened to him? Where is he?” What he’s really asking is,  _ Is he alive? _

“He’s in the hospital,” Mark says, his voice wet and ragged, “but he’s—he’s not doing well. The doctors don’t know if he’s going to last the night.” 

It feels like everything freezes in that one moment. Patrik’s ears are ringing, and he can’t hear Mark or the music, his vision a blur of colours. He can’t  _ breathe. _

“I’ll call you back,” Patrik says, strangely calm. He hangs up before Mark can say anything else. 

For a minute, Patrik just sits in the grimy club hallway, staring blankly at the wall and feeling absolutely numb. Abruptly, he scrambles to his feet and bursts through the door to the bathroom. Without bothering to close the stall door, Patrik drops to his knees and throws up into the toilet until there’s nothing left to come up, then sits back against the wall and buries his face in his hands and cries.

He manages to calm himself down enough to order an Uber, only leaving the bathroom to go out to the street and get into the car. A few people look at him strangely, but for the most part, the flashing lights and dancing shadows hide his haggard face.

The driver doesn’t mention it. Patrik tips him extra for that.

Only once he’s finally locked his door behind him does Patrik allow himself to cry again. 

He still doesn’t know what happened, can’t see well enough through his tears to look it up. The image in his mind of Nikolaj broken and small and  _ alone _ in a sterile hospital bed is enough.

Patrik wakes up a couple hours later with a crick in his neck and an ache in his back from sleeping on the couch. His eyes are burning and his face feels sticky where he hadn’t had the chance to wipe off his tears. 

He stands up stiffly and walks slowly to the bathroom, trying not to trip over anything in the dark. He turns the sink on, waiting until the water is as cold as it gets before cupping his hands under it and rinsing his face. After he turns off the water, he stares into the sink and watches the droplets run down the white porcelain and into the drain. 

When he looks up again, Nikolaj is standing behind him. 

Patrik freezes, staring at the mirror like if he blinks, Nikolaj will disappear.

It’s been months since he’s seen Nikolaj in person and he tries to memorize everything about him, hallucination or not. His hair is longer, wavy in a way that Patrik would chirp him about but also long to touch, to pull. His eyes are still the same, and so is the curve of his mouth, the sharpness of his jaw. 

Patrik wants to turn around. He wants to see if Nikolaj is actually here, if he can touch him, if his conversation with Mark was all a horrible nightmare, but.

When he looks,  _ really _ looks, he can see the door through Nikolaj’s body. Almost like he’s a photograph that has faded in the sun.

“You’re not real,” Patrik says finally. “You’re not here.”

“I don’t know,” Nikolaj says, and his voice is faint and uncertain. “I don’t know where  _ here _ is.”

Patrik gives in and turns around. Nikolaj is still there, right in front of him. Patrik wants more than anything to reach out and pull him in, hold him close to his chest and listen to him breathe.

“Niky,” he says, breathless like he’s been punched in the gut. His hand twitches, but he thinks about the way Nikolaj isn’t quite  _ here, _ and fists his hand in his jeans. 

“Where am I?” Nikolaj says. He looks around nervously. “Why am I here?” 

“What’s,” Patrik clears his throat, “what’s the last thing you remember?”

“I was driving to the rink,” Nikolaj says slowly, “there’s a preseason game tonight, why am I not there, I should—” His eyes are widening, confusion twisting his face.

“You were driving,” Patrik interrupts. “What happened next?”

“There was a kid,” Nikolaj says, his voice low. “A kid ran into the street and I—” Nikolaj’s fingers are twitching, like he’s remembering his hands on the steering wheel. “I went off the road,” Nikolaj whispers. “I don’t—I can’t remember—” He clutches at his head, hands shaking. Patrik can’t stop himself from stepping forward and reaching out. 

His hand passes through Nikolaj’s shoulder with a wash of cold air. Nikolaj flinches away, his hand flying up to his shoulder.

“Nikolaj.” Patrik’s hands are extended, but he doesn’t want to touch Nikolaj again, doesn’t want to feel that horrible cold.

“Where were you?” Nikolaj’s eyes snap back to Patrik’s face, an unfamiliarity to the wild look in them. Patrik’s never felt  _ scared _ of Nikolaj before. He’s not sure if this really counts. If this is really Nikolaj. “Why aren’t you with me?” His voice goes from furious to faint and scared in mere seconds.

“I didn’t know,” Patrik says. He takes a careful step back, not taking his eyes off Nikolaj. Nikolaj notices and he shrinks back, looking at his transparent hands. Patrik wishes he could believe that Nikolaj was actually here, not just a fucked up coping mechanism for Patrik. “You’re not even real, I don’t know why I’m….” Patrik trails off and shakes his head, then steps through Nikolaj and out of the bathroom.

He can’t stop himself from turning around. Nikolaj is gone. 

Patrik sighs shakily and takes out his phone to call Mark again. 

“Patrik?” Mark sounds a little less wretched than he did a couple hours ago. There’s a steady murmur in the background of the call.

“Where are you?” Patrik asks.

“We’re in the hospital,” Mark tells him. “Most of the team, I mean. We’re in a waiting room. His family is on the way already. They should be here by tomorrow, so hopefully—” Mark cuts himself off and stays silent for a long moment. 

“How is he?” Patrik whispers, scared that if he tries to speak any louder that his voice will break. 

“He’s—he’s really bad, Patty,” Mark says. Someone says something to Mark on the other end of the line and Patrik hears him take a deep breath. “He hasn’t woken up since the crash. The doctors said it’s too soon to be sure, but—but they don’t know if he ever will. When his family gets here, they’ll—that’s going to be something they’ll have to talk about.” 

Patrik can’t believe what he’s hearing. 

“Talk about what?” he demands, and he knows his voice is too loud, too angry, that it’s not Mark’s fault, but he can’t help it. “Taking him—taking him off life support? It’s been less than a day!” He grinds his teeth together. 

“Listen, Patrik, it’s his head. His head, it’s—it’s really bad. They don’t know what’s wrong with him, but they said his brain isn’t behaving like it’s supposed to. They said if he does wake up, he might not be the same. And they said that’s a big  _ if.” _

“Who gives a  _ shit _ if he’s not the same?” Patrik is yelling now, but his eyes sting. He hangs up and in a fit of anger, he throws his phone at the wall. “Fuck,” Patrik whispers, suddenly drained of fury and feeling terribly, terribly afraid. He buries his face in his shaking hands, trying to steady his breathing. 

Something cold brushes the back of his neck and he jerks up to see Nikolaj beside him on the couch, one hand hovering near Patrik. Nikolaj folds his hands in his lap when Patrik looks up and stares at his lap.

“They can’t see me,” Nikolaj says, twisting his thumbs together. “Nobody can. It’s only you.”

“Yeah, because you’re  _ my _ hallucination,” Patrik says bitterly. He considers swiping his hand through Nikolaj’s fading torso and putting himself out of his misery, but something about Nikolaj’s face makes him think twice. 

“You should come,” Nikolaj says. Patrik doesn’t ask what he means. He’s already planning on it. “I want—if I don’t wake up, I want you to tell everyone for me.”

“As if they’d believe me,” Patrik says. “I don’t even believe  _ you. _ There’s no way you can prove to me that you’re real, because everything you could say to prove it would have to be something I already know.” Patrik shakes his head. 

Nikolaj scowls, so familiar that Patrik’s heart aches and he has to look away.

“Call Sebastian,” Nikolaj says. He sounds unwilling, but resigned. “You need to ask him something about me that you would have no way of knowing.” 

Patrik gets up and collects his ruined phone.

“Isn’t he on the plane?” 

“There’s a layover in London,” Nikolaj says. “They had to get the soonest flights, even if they were indirect.” He smiles, a little sad. “He’ll answer.”

Patrik hesitates, but Nikolaj’s nervous eyes persuade him to dial Sebastian’s number. The phone rings three times before Sebastian answers.

“Hello?” Sebastian says. His voice is raw and tired. Patrik winces. He probably sounds the same. 

“Sebastian,” Patrik says, “it’s Patrik.” 

“I know,” Sebastian says. “What is it?”

“I wanted to know something,” Patrik says, “about Nikolaj.” Patrik looks over at Nikolaj to see him staring into his hands. 

“Tell him he needs to tell you the truth,” Nikolaj says.

“And I—I need you to be honest with me,” Patrik adds.

“Okay,” Sebastian agrees.

“Ask him if I was—if I’m in love with you,” Nikolaj says. He won’t look at Patrik. 

Patrik’s stomach drops. 

“Is Nikolaj in love with me?” It’s barely a whisper. 

Sebastian lets out a long rush of air on the other end of the line.

“I guess it can’t hurt to tell you,” he says, his voice bitter. Patrik knows the sentiment is not directed towards him. Sebastian pauses. “Yes,” he says finally, “he was.” 

“I still am,” Nikolaj says quietly, but he still won’t look at Patrik. 

“Thank you, Sebastian,” Patrik says, his voice wavering just slightly. “I’ll—I’ll see you soon.”

Sebastian doesn’t reply. 

Patrik sets his phone down on the coffee table, trying to hide his shaking hands.

“Nikolaj—” he starts

“You have your proof,” Nikolaj interrupts. “I’m not a hallucination, okay? I’m sorry. Can you just forget about this? I don’t—I don’t want to be alone when—” 

He can’t cry as whatever kind of ghost or projection he is, but the way his face scrunches up hurts Patrik just as much as if he had burst into tears.

“Nobody knows if you’re going to die, Nik,” Patrik says, trying to keep his voice gentle. 

“Nobody knows if I’m going to live, either,” Nikolaj snaps in response. “And since you’re the only one who knows I’m here, well—”

“Wait,” Patrik says, something horrible occurring to him. “If you—if you don’t, then what happens to  _ this _ you?”

Nikolaj swallows hard. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “I hadn’t thought about it.” 

They sit in silence for another long moment. 

“Hey, Niky?” Patrik says softly.

“Yeah?”

“Just so you know, uh.” Patrik bites his thumbnail. “I love you. Uh. Too.”

Nikolaj looks at him with huge, shocked eyes, then reaches out like he wants to touch Patrik. He freezes, remembering, and withdraws his hand. 

“I wish I’d told you before,” Patrik says hoarsely. “I didn’t know—I never thought this would happen.” He’d thought, stupidly, like a child, that he and Nikolaj could go through life together, playing hockey by each other’s side for as long as they could. He’d thought maybe once they were both retired that he would be brave enough to tell Nikolaj how he felt. 

He never thought Nikolaj might never get a chance to retire. That hockey would be taken from him. That  _ Nikolaj _ would be taken from _him. _

“Me too,” Nikolaj says. “I wanted to kiss you after playoffs, you know. I didn’t think you’d want it, so I didn’t, um. But I wanted to.” 

Patrik raises his hand to hover an inch away from Nikolaj’s mouth. He wants more than anything, more than he wants a contract, more than he wants a Cup, to lean forward and kiss Nikolaj. He wants to feel the softness of his lips, the sharpness of his teeth. The heat of his mouth.

“I’m coming to you,” Patrik says. “I’ll—I’ll figure it out.” 

Patrik gets his laptop and starts looking for plane tickets. Nikolaj hovers nearby, always close enough that Patrik can feel the chill emanating from the space that he occupies. 

“Patty?” Nikolaj speaks just as Patrik finishes confirming the order. 

Patrik turns around to see Nikolaj staring at his hands. It takes him a moment to notice what’s wrong, but when he does, his gorge rises and he almost closes his eyes. 

Nikolaj is fading. Earlier, Patrik had to look closely to see through Nikolaj’s body. Not anymore.

“No,” Patrik breathes.

“I think you should hurry,” Nikolaj manages, then he disappears. 

Patrik jumps up, feeling around the spot Nikolaj had been. It’s no colder than the rest of the room.

“This happened before,” Patrik reminds himself, trying to calm down. Just because Nikolaj disappeared does not mean he’s dead. 

He keeps his phone on the whole drive to the airport. 

It’s a long way to Winnipeg. 

Nikolaj doesn’t appear on the flight to Zurich, or in the airport while he waits for his flight to Toronto. He doesn’t reappear until the plane is about to touch down in Winnipeg, by which point Patrik hasn’t slept in far too long out of fear that he’d miss Nikolaj’s return. 

Patrik almost says something to him, but he’s on a small, cramped plane and doesn’t want to draw attention to himself. Instead, he looks at Nikolaj and nods, just slightly. 

He uses the silence to study Nikolaj’s appearance. 

He’s even more faded than he was back in Switzerland, and he has circles under his eyes like he’s exhausted, probably identical to the ones on Patrik's face. His face looks gaunt instead of simply sharp, like he’s little more than skin pulled tight over his bones.

Patrik didn’t bother packing a bag before he left, so skips baggage claim and ignores any stares and whispers in his direction. Nikolaj stays beside him the whole time.

He catches a cab outside the airport. Nikolaj passes through the door and sits beside him.

“Where to?” the driver asks. He recognizes Patrik, that much is obvious, but by now probably everyone who knows anything about the NHL knows what happened to Nikolaj. 

“The hospital,” Patrik says, “please.”

Nikolaj looks nervous.

“Your seatbelt,” he says. Patrik snaps the band against his chest, showing that he’s safe, then tentatively reaches across the backseat and nudges his fingers against Nikolaj’s faded hand. Obviously, it just feels like cold air, but Nikolaj smiles at him anyway. 

The driver drops him off outside the front of the hospital. Nikolaj goes ahead of him, like he’s following the pull of his physical body. Patrik follows him through the corridors, trying to act like he knows what he’s doing. 

“Patrik?” someone calls suddenly. A hand catches his arm. 

“Adam,” Patrik says. He pulls his arm out of Adam’s grasp, looking to see if Nikolaj is waiting for him. He isn’t, is still walking briskly down the hall. “I have to go.” 

“Wait, Patrik, what are you—”   


Patrik ignores him, feeling vaguely guilty about it before he reminds himself why he’s here.

“Excuse me,” a nurse says to him as he tries to enter the ICU, “identification?” 

“Sorry,” Patrik says, and he dodges past the nurse and follows Nikolaj into the hospital, ignoring the shout behind him.

He catches up to Nikolaj outside a doorway with no door. 

In the centre of the room, backlit by a window that spans the whole wall, is a bed. In the bed, bandaged and surrounded by wires and monitors, is Nikolaj. 

Patrik steps into the room as if he’s in a trance.    


There are some pictures around, a few flowers in vases, but no sign of any people. Nikolaj’s family must have gone out, but they probably won’t be gone long.    
Patrik sits down in the chair beside Nikolaj’s bed and rests his hand over Nikolaj’s unbroken hand. His skin is so cold.

“Niky,” he murmurs. The silence of the room is broken only by the steady beeping of the monitors and the soft rush of air from the breathing tube.

“Patrik,” Nikolaj says in a small voice. 

The beeping slows down. 

Patrik looks up from the real Nikolaj. The ghostly Nikolaj is fading before Patrik’s eyes, an expression of terror on his face. 

“No,” Patrik says, looking desperately between both Nikolajs. “Come on, Niky, stay with me.”

Nikolaj stumbles forward, almost completely invisible now, and Patrik instinctively reaches out to catch him.

His hand makes contact and Nikolaj glows with a bright white light, bright enough that Patrik has to look away.

When he looks back, Nikolaj is gone.

Patrik feels pressure building in his throat, in his chest. He can’t quite breathe. He definitely can’t shout for help. 

“Mmph.”

Patrik spins back to the bed, hardly daring to hope and—Nikolaj blinks up at him blearily. 

His fingers twitch against Patrik’s and Patrik laces their fingers together. 

“Nikolaj,” Patrik breathes, the relief running through him almost overwhelming. 

Nikolaj coughs weakly around his breathing tube and winces. Patrik leans closer and brushes a hand through his hair.

“It’s okay,” he says. “You’re going to be okay.”

Nikolaj closes his eyes, but his finger moves over the back of Patrik’s hand in the same pattern, over and over. Patrik looks down to watch. 

He’s tracing a heart. 

Patrik stays there, holding Nikolaj’s hand, until his family comes back. 

_ Five months later _

“Are you ready?” 

Nikolaj looks at Patrik with a raised eyebrow, pulling the no-contact jersey over his head and rumpling his hair.

“I’ve been ready for  _ months,” _ he says grumpily. 

Patrik smiles at him crookedly, then picks up Nikolaj’s helmet and stands in front of him. 

For all his griping, Nikolaj can’t stop the smile that makes its way onto his face. Patrik thumbs at his lower lip, then leans down to kiss him softly.

“That’s a fine,” Mark says loudly, then there’s a thump and a yelp as someone punches him. 

Patrik smooths down Nikolaj’s hair with his free hand before putting his helmet on for him. 

“Be careful out there, okay?” Patrik says.

Nikolaj smirks up at him. 

“You’re the one who needs to watch your back,” Nikolaj informs him, and lets Patrik chase him onto the ice, laughing all the while. 

When they’re out there together, just the two of them before the rest of the team, Patrik feels that familiar rushing in his chest, that  _ relief _ that Nikolaj is okay. Even after months, that feeling has hardly faded at all. Patrik doesn’t know if it ever really will.

Still, when Nikolaj skates up to him and bumps their visors together, grinning his fierce grin, Patrik decides that he doesn’t mind as long as he has Nikolaj with him.

For now, the future can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> so like... hahaha am i right?
> 
> ps i didn't explain but nikolaj's whole brain thing was because his consciousness got yeeted out of his body. essentially.
> 
> [tumblr](https://symphony7inamajor.tumblr.com)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/symphony7inAmaj)


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